


Eat Me, Drink Me

by zoemathemata



Series: Eat Me Drink Me (Deaged!Dean) [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Deaged Dean Winchester, Gen, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-23
Updated: 2009-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-19 19:19:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/204335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoemathemata/pseuds/zoemathemata
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for <span><a href="http://hoodie-time.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://hoodie-time.livejournal.com/"><b>hoodie_time</b></a></span>   ’s prompt at <span><a href="http://spn-hurtcomfort.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://spn-hurtcomfort.livejournal.com/"><b>spn_hurtcomfort</b></a></span>   : Sam, Dean, (gen): De-aged!Dean at Christmas-time! As much schmoop as possible, please. ;D<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Eat Me, Drink Me

“What do you mean he ate it?”

Sam winces at Bobby’s tone and volume. “Look, he didn’t know okay?”

“You came across a _pie_ in the middle of a forest while you were hunting pixies and idjit boy there thought it was a good idea to _eat_ it?”

“Well, when you put it like that…”

“Uh-huh.”

Bobby eyes the sleeping form of Dean in the back seat of the Impala. The decidedly small sleeping form of Dean. Curled up underneath a large Sam-sized sweater, blonde hair sticking up at angles, Dean’s little lips are parted slightly and he is sweaty, the way kids are when they sleep deep. His feet poke out from the bottom, bare and pink.

“How old do you figure he is?”

Sam sighs and eyeballs Dean with Bobby. “Four.” Sam pauses. “I think.”

“That your guess?”

“I, uh…” Sam pushes his hands through his hair. “I asked him and that’s how many fingers he held up.”

“Christ on a cracker.” Bobby peers a little closer through the window. “He know what happened?”

Another huff of air from Sam. “No. I don’t think he knows. I think he really is four, man. He, uh…” Sam coughed uncomfortably. “I think he might be a little scared of me.”

“Whaddya mean he’s scared of you?”

“I don’t think he knows me, Bobby.”

They are both staring through the backseat window of the Impala like the small creature curled up asleep is some kind of four headed beast. Dean coughs in his sleep and Bobby flinches.

“We should probably get him inside. It’s kinda cold out here.”

Bobby nods wordlessly as Sam opens up the backseat door and stretches his long arms inside. He is just about to try shaking Dean awake when he thinks better of it. He gathers Dean in his arms and hefts the light weight close to his body. He probably only weighs about forty pounds, Sam thinks. Like sleepy toddlers everywhere, Dean is all loose limbs and noodle-like relaxation, his head flopping down on Sam’s shoulder, feet dangling. Sam adjusts the hoodie to rest around Dean’s small frame. Bobby catches sight of a tiny Metallica t-shirt and black boxer briefs, also scaled down to fit Dean’s body.

“He just woke up like that?” Bobby asked.

Sam breathes out low and long, bobbing his head as he hip-checks the door of the Impala shut. “I mean, as far as I can tell. He ate the pie. We didn’t find anything so we went back to the hotel. Had some pizza, some beer and went to bed. Next thing I know, I’m waking up and he’s …” Sam gestures with one hand down Dean’s body. “And he’s just staring at me. Even the clothes he wore to bed got tiny.” Sam keeps his voice low and even, gently making his way up the stairs. Dean’s legs swing softly back and forth with the movement.

“What did he say?”

“He hasn’t said _anything_. He just keeps looking at me with those big eyes. I don’t know if he can’t talk, or he just won’t.”

“Does he know his name?” Bobby reaches out and grabs the front door for Sam.

“I think so. When I say it, it’s like it gets his attention.”

“Well what are we supposed to do with him?”

Sam doesn’t say anything as he gently lays Dean down on the battered sofa in Bobby’s living room.

When he stands up, they both continued their slack-jawed contest: Who can stare at Dean longer?

Sam finally breaks the silence, his voice close to a whisper. “I mean, he doesn’t know who I am, he doesn’t know where he is. Jesus.”

“What didja say?” Bobby keeps his voice equally low.

“I kept asking him if he was okay, if he felt okay, if he hurt anywhere and I just got that wide eyed stare. And then when he didn’t say anything, I asked if he knew who I was, and nothing. So I started telling him that I was his brother, and when I said my name was Sam, that I was Sammy…” Sam breaks off not sure how to put into words how awful it looked. Big, watery green orbs stared at him. Little pink lower lip started to tremble and Sam had started to _panic_. He immediately started back-peddling his story. “He started to cry until I told him I was a friend of his dad’s and that his dad had to go away for a little bit. And that his baby brother was fine and with his dad.”

“What didja tell him that for?” Bobby smacks him in the shoulder.

“Jesus, what else was I supposed to say? You got something better?”

Their voices are shouty whispers. Hardly quiet, but not loud enough to wake Dean, apparently.

“He seemed better after he saw the car. I think he recognized the car as dad’s.”

There’s another few minutes of silence.

“How long is he gonna stay like this?” Sam asks Bobby, hoping for an answer of ‘fifteen minutes.’

Bobby gives him an incredulous look. “What do I look like? An encyclopedia of weird shit?”

“What? But you usually… I mean, you always… Haven’t you heard of this before?”

“No, I haven’t heard of this before, I’m gonna have to do some research.”

“Oh.” Disappointment laces Sam’s tone. He furrows his brow. “Can you watch him for a bit?”

“What?” Bobby exclaims, stepping back from the couch.

“Bobby, I have to go shopping for him. He’s got no clothes, no shoes,” Sam says with a note of desperation. “I couldn’t leave him alone at all today and I couldn’t take him anywhere. Not with him dressed in his underwear. And I was worried I’d get him somewhere and he’d start screaming bloody murder. We’re fucked if child services gets ahold of him.”

If there was one thing that John Winchester had repeatedly drilled into his boys it was: _Do Not Draw Unwanted Attention. Unwanted Attention Brings the Authorities. Authorities are Their Own Kind of Trouble._

“And,” continues Sam, “I doubt you’re really set up for a four year old here. He needs real food. Like vegetables. And Cheerios.” He can’t think of anything else that a four year old should eat. “All he’s had today is drive-thru.”

Bobby thinks about the contents of his fridge and looks back down at Dean. Sam’s got a point. But…

“What do I do if he wakes up?”

“I dunno,” replies Sam already heading to the door. “Play a game with him. Tell him a story. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Boy, if you don’t hustle your ass back here, I will kick it.”

*******

Wal-mart. Two days before Christmas.

Jesus, it’s worse than slaying demons.

There are people _everywhere_. Sam had to snag the cart out in the parking lot and then push it into the store. Literally _push_ it - the wheels would not roll through the inch or so of slushy snow that blanketed the parking lot. And that was only after he circled the lot for twenty minutes waiting for a spot big enough to park the Impala.

He had forgotten it was so close to Christmas. Now, as he’s stuck in a mad shopping throng he wonders how he could have not noticed before. There are lights strung up everywhere and fake gingerbread houses. Poinsettias and garland. Chaos and clutter surround him. He can barely steer the cart through the mass of shoppers in their distracted shopping coma.

He stands in the children’s clothing section, completely confused. He grabs a few shirts, checks the tags. The sizes make no sense. 1x, 2x, 6mos. What does it _mean_? Fuck. He looks up at a loud noise and sees a mother manhandling her daughter in the way that parents do. It’s not rough, not meant to be mean, but it sure as heck isn’t all that gentle. It’s a practiced movement born of familiarity and knowing you’re responsible for and in charge of that child. Grab shoulder, turn child, ignore protest. The toddler spins around and the harried mother is holding the dress up to the back of the child.

Maybe he should have brought Dean so he could see if stuff would fit. It’s too late to worry about that now. He eyeballs a few shirts and finally decides to get two in one size and another two in the size up. He does the same with pants. And that’s when he sees them. His eyes light up.

Footy pajamas.

And they have penguins on them. Penguins _frolicking._ And damn, those penguins are having a really good time.

After that, it’s like he’s broken some kind of seal or shopping barrier. The rest is a blur of aisles and bright lights and shiny things. The next thing he’s really aware of, he’s back at Bobby’s dragging bags and bags of stuff into the house. He stops at what he sees.

Bobby is sitting on one end of the couch. Little Dean is on the other, Sam’s big sweater draped over him like a blanket. Their eyes are glued to the tv set where a large bear is explaining to a small blue mouse that all his friends will have a stuffed toy so the mouse shouldn’t be worried about bringing his out in front of them. One of the friends appears to be a smaller bear. Both Dean and Bobby look up as Sam enters. Sam raises an eyebrow at Bobby.

“He woke up,” is all he says but the eyes clearly say, _I’m gonna kill you, boy._ Dean looks over at him warily.

“Hey! Dean!” Sam exclaims, kicking off his shoes and shucking his jacket quickly. “You’re awake.” He grabs some of the shopping bags and sits down cross legged in front of Dean. “Are you hungry? Maybe a little thirsty? I’ve got milk. Chocolate and white. And chicken nuggets. You want some chicken nuggets for dinner?”

He gets a silent stare back. Solemn. Disapproving. Sam feels like he’s being judged and he’s losing. Badly.

“I got tons of stuff!” Sam exclaims in an overly happy voice. “Some t-shirts for you and some pants. Shoes, a jacket, some mitts.” Sam starts ruffling around in the bag and starts pulling stuff out. “Coloring books and crayons. And some movies!” He holds up the dvd and wiggles it a little in front of Dean. “ _Monsters, Inc._ I bet you’ve never seen this, huh? It’s brand new to you! It looks really good.”

Dean’s green eyes flick over to the dvd and then back to Sam. Sam actually feels a little nervous under that gaze.

“So,” Sam continues, determined. “There’s a bathroom down the hall. Why don’t you go put these pjs on,” Sam pulls the tag off with his teeth and hands the footy pajamas to Dean. “And then we’ll have some dinner and then you can help Bobby and I decorate. Did you know it’s almost Christmas?” Dean looks down at the pajamas and back up at Sam.

“Can you dress yourself, Dean? Or do you need some help?”

The little eyebrows come together as if he’s been insulted. Dean takes a hold of the fabric and hops off the couch, little legs scurrying down the hallway.

Christ, he’s cute. Sam can’t help the little laugh that escapes his lips.

“Did you buy out the store?” Bobby is rooting around in the shopping bags.

“We don’t know how long he’s gonna be like this,” Sam protests.

Bobby pulls out a little Christmas tree in a box followed by a set of lights and some garland. “Well, I guess if it’s worth doing, it’s worth overdoing.”

******

Dean pushed his nuggets around on the plate. Sam had even cut them up into bite sized pieces and added a little dollop of ketchup, but Dean didn’t eat more than a few bites.

He did have three glasses of chocolate milk, so Sam counts it as a success.

Dean seemed to have, well, not exactly _fun_ decorating, but it definitely wasn’t a bad time. He had seriously held the end of the garland while Sam wound it carefully around the tree, and when Bobby had asked for help counting the ornaments, he stood next to the old hunter and and bobbed his little head at each number Bobby said out loud. His hair was ridiculously blonde. Sam didn’t remember it ever being that blonde, but then again, he never got to see Dean _so small_. No matter how small Dean was, he had always been bigger than Sam and seeing now how tiny Dean had been… when he thinks about Dean holding him, being told to run out of the house with him while their mother was burning… It’s not like Sam’s an overly sentimental guy or anything, but seeing Dean’s little hands holding the garland, his elfin feet dwarfed by the foot-pajamas, and his unblinking eyes… Sam’s heart stutters.

When the finally finish decorating the pint sized tree and Sam turns on the lights, Dean’s eyes go even wider. Sam thinks he _almost_ saw a smile.

“Hey buddy, you wanna try out that movie now?”

Dean shrugs. Itty-bitty shoulder rising up and down and then his toe kicks the floor. He looks like he doesn’t care, but Sam sees his eyes (with those impossibly long eyelashes) flicker over to the dvd cover.

“Hop on the couch and we’ll start the movie.”

Dean climbs up on the couch and settles in the corner. Sam’s hoodie is still there and Sam freezes for a second as he sees Dean pull it over his lap like a blanket, with his feet hanging over the edge of the sofa. Bobby excuses himself to ‘go read some books,’ which Sam takes as ‘research.’ Sam slides the movie in and then settles on the opposite side of the couch so as not to crowd Dean.

Dean’s eyes are gigantic as the animation comes on. If he really is Dean at four, the cartoon must seem impossibly crisp and bright to him. He’d be used to Looney-Tunes, or Tom and Jerry. Dean’s four year old brain is _entranced_ by the Pixar animation. His soft pink lips have fallen open slightly, agape. Sam can’t help but slyly watch Dean as Dean watches the movie. Dean loves Sully, eyes following the large blue monster whenever he’s on screen. He sneers at Randall and smiles at Mike and Boo.

There are a couple of tense moments when Dean actually seems really scared and Sam fumbles with the remote, forcing the dvd to skip to the next scene. Dean doesn't really appear to notice that he’s missed something and just goes on happily watching the screen.

Then the credits are rolling and Sam’s watching Dean as he tries valiantly to keep his eyes open. They droop shut, his head falls forward and then he jerks back up again. He actually _knuckles_ his eyes, tiny fists jammed into his sockets rubbing.

“Hey Dean, is it bed-time?”

Dean blinks at him sleepily and then actually nods. Sam stands, stretching his legs and arms out. He’s a giant next to most people, but he’s just ridiculously big next to Dean.

“You want me to carry you?”

Dean nods again, eyes falling shut. Sam picks him up, still surprised by how light he is. Dean’s head falls on Sam’s shoulder and by the time Sam is upstairs and laying him down on a bed, Dean is out cold. Sam tucks the blankets around him and can’t resist leaning over and kissing Dean’s forehead.

Sam’s asleep seconds later on the bed next to Dean’s. His last thought is that he doesn’t know why he’s so tired. All he did was take care of Dean all day.

******

Sam wakes up the next morning and the first thing he notices is an empty bed.

He rolls himself right out of bed and hitches up his jeans. He’s calling Dean’s name out when he hears Bobby answer him from the kitchen downstairs.

“We’re in here!”

Sam hustles his ass into the kitchen and… stops.

Dean actually looks up at him and smiles. Not a toothy grin or anything but it’s definitely a smile. He and Bobby are eating Cheerios and milk. The milk is dripping off Dean’s spoon, onto his chin and running down to land on his paper towel bib. He’s sitting with his butt at the edge of the chair and swinging his feet.

“Hey. What time did you get up, buddy?”

Dean shrugs. Jesus, is he even old enough to tell time? Sam looks at Bobby.

“Don’t look at me, I came downstairs and found him watching tv. Figured out how to turn it on by himself.”

Sam grabs a cup of coffee and pulls up a chair next to Dean.

“How did you sleep?”

Another little shrug. Sam catches Bobby’s eye and Bobby shakes his head. So Dean hasn’t said anything yet. But this is communication which is more than they were getting yesterday.

“How did your book reading go last night, Bobby?” Sam raises his eyebrows meaningfully.

Cheerios finished, Bobby sits back. “I think I got something. I got a few more books to read today and then I should know.”

Sam nods. Although… he stares at Dean as he slurps up his Cheerios. It’s not that he wants Dean to stay little. That’s just not practical. It’s just… it’s like Dean is a blank slate. Sam thinks Dean’s gone back to the age he was right after their mother died. Dean clearly knows he has a little brother, and Sam mentioned his dad, but not his mom. And Dean seemed okay with that. So it stands to reason that Dean doesn’t know anything about monsters or hunting or things that go bump in the night, other than what your average four year old knows. Dean was wary of Sam and Bobby but now he seems okay with them, so he doesn’t have any real trust issues. And man will that change. Sam’s throat clenches when he thinks of the little boy in front of him growing up and getting the shit kicked out of him by vampires, ghouls, poltergeists and more. He thinks about all the scars Dean has, all the pain that’s waiting to sink back into those little arms and legs.

“Dean, you wanna go get dressed and play outside with me? Bobby’s got some cool junk out there.”

Dean’s eyes dart over to Bobby, like he needs permission from him too. Bobby nods. “Hell, I mean, er, sure. Go ahead.”

Sam and Dean spend the rest of the day playing.  
******

Bobby tells Sam the following morning that he’s found an cure.

Sam’s not sure how he feels about that.

It’s Christmas morning and Dean is hanging out in the pillow fort he and Sam built yesterday, face poking out from behind a wall of blanket, watching _Finding Nemo_. Sam skipped past the start where the mom died, just in case, and started it when Nemo goes to his first day of school.

Sam had stayed up late last night wrapping a few things he picked up at Wal-mart for gifts. _Nemo_ was one of the presents. Dean already finished the little puzzle, even though it said “Ages 5 and Up.” He whipped through it like it was… well, child’s play. Dean’s currently resting is head on an alligator pillow that Sam couldn’t resist.

“Oh, sure, that’s great.” He knows it sounds totally fake.

“I’ll mix the drink up today. It has to stew for a few hours. It should be ready by tonight.”

“Awesome.”

Bobby looks back and forth between Sam and Dean. “Aw, hell, go. Go hang out with him today.”

“You don’t need any help with the… uh, stuff?”

Bobby claps him on the back. “Naw. Go sit with Dean.”

Sam can’t keep the smile from his face as he hunkers down next to Dean’s pillow fort. Dean looks up at him and smiles, and this time there’s full-on teeth. Sam wonders if it’s the same kind of smile he used to give Dean when Sam was little. Sam crosses his legs and leans back on his hand, head tilted toward Dean.

“Big day for Nemo, huh? First day of school.”

*****

They mix it in with the chocolate milk and if Dean notices it, he gives no indication.

Bobby said it ‘should’ be the same as when Dean… shrunk. He should go to bed little, but wake up big.

Sam’s staring at Dean as he watches _Monster’s Inc_ again. For the _third_ time. Sam’s pretty sure that regular parents have some kind of rule about that, but he doesn’t care. Dean loves it. And now that Dean knows how it ends, Sam doesn’t have to fast-forward through the scary parts anymore.

Dean’s even more comfortable around them now. He full out _giggles_ at the movie and the sound pulls at Sam’s chest. It’s such a light, happy sound. He’s never heard Dean that happy.

The movie is over too quickly and Dean is knuckling his eyes again. Sam’s also pretty sure that regular parents have better rules about bedtime too.

“Time for bed, Deano?”

Dean nods, blonde hair bobbing. He reaches up his arms, not even checking to see if Sam will reach out to carry him.

Sam rubs Dean’s back as he carries him up the stairs. Dean’s breath is warm on his neck, coming out in puffs. Dean stirs slightly as Sam lays him down on the bed.

“Go back to sleep, Dean.”

“‘kay.” Dean flops over to his stomach.

Sam’s heart lurches at the small, quiet word. He finishes tucking Dean in and then lays down on his own bed and stares at the tiny form. He’ll be glad when Dean is back to normal.

He will.

But he’ll miss this Dean too.  
******

“What the fuck?”

Sam shoots awake at the deep voice and is startled when he opens his eyes and sees Dean sitting up in his own bed, feet on the floor.

Dean. Big Dean.

And he looks… pissed.

Probably because he’s wearing man- sized penguin footy pajamas.

He gives Sam a death glare.

“You have ten seconds to explain this,” Dean commands, pulling at the fabric and distorting the faces of the penguins. Dean wiggles his toes inside the slippered feet.

Sam just laughs.


End file.
